


Who you're wearing

by Fricking



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Gen, rating for explicit mentions of csa, takes place post-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fricking/pseuds/Fricking
Summary: Bede always had certain expectations of being a Gym Leader, and so far all of his wishes were coming true. He had Opal, he had fans, he had a following, and was finally recognized for the great trainer he was destined to be. He wore head turning fashion, attended premier galas, and there was no Chairman Rose to be disappointed in him anymore.None of that explained why he was in an unfamiliar elevator, heart in his throat and clutching a hotel card key so hard that he might break it.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Who you're wearing

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Chairman Rose is a despicable human being. Canonically he actually seems like a good guy, if misguided.
> 
> Please note the tags before reading.

The elevator has no music.  
  
There was really no need for elevators to have music, so it didn’t actually bother him. Still, Bede finds himself focusing on the fact that the elevator had no music rather than the way his hands shake, or how his vision is blurring so badly could barely read the number written on the cardkey’s sleeve. The room is near the top floor, so he has plenty of time to prepare himself to come face to face with the champion- no, former champion, Bede reminds himself. He’s no longer a goal post, just some arse in a wool jacket who’s obviously never seen a hairbrush in his life. 

-

He’d never gotten invited to an event before, let alone a celebratory function for “Elite Trainers of Galar”, and honestly _about time_ .   
  
That’s what he’d said when he got the invitation, and Opal was kind enough to not point out the smile he failed to hide. The closest he’s gotten to one of these invitations is permission to tag along with Rose. Permission he’d begged for in the same way he’d begged for every scrap of attention Rose gave him.

-

He swallows, the elevator doors opening to an opulent hallway. So white. So gilded. And right now, he fit right in. One foot in front of the other- it’s easy to do anything as long as you disassociate yourself. A Gym Leader carries himself with dignity.

-  
  
Opal had arrived at the event wearing what she always does, but that simply wouldn’t work for Bede. No one else would be wearing polyester dry-wick uniforms, and he was going to make sure he was a glittering gem among the new trainers. He was a fairy type leader, and they weren’t known for being drab, so he had no trouble adorning himself with an ostentatious fluffy pink coat, one that was sure to make him stand out next to others, such as Spikemuth’s new leader.

He stifled a laugh.

Black? On a dark type trainer? How original.

Gym Leader Raihan looked stunning, and his Rotom was already making sure to get his best angle for Pokégram. He knew there were professional photographers, at the venue, right? The Champion- no, Leon looked like a jockey who missed the memo about a weight limit. His outfit was almost as goofy as the vacant stare he gave Bede while he stepped off the taxi alongside Opal.  
  
Still, even among the clowns he maintained dignity, bumping elbows with both new and familiar faces.   
  
“Oh, Rose’s boy. Babé, right?”   
  
“Bede. Pleased to meet you”   
  
“I’ve seen you before, with the Chairman. Beet?”   
  
“Bede. I’m Ballonlea’s new Gym Leader.”   
  
“Excuse me, Bede?”   
  
“It’s Be-” He raised his voice, turning heel to face the latest irritation. Instead of another suit he gets a facefull of white lace and golden eyes. “-de. No, wait, you had it right.” How did that dimwit get it right on the first try? And more importantly, what did he want? “You…”   
  
“Leon’s fine.” His expression was blank, a dopey smile brighter than any thought that must be tumbling back and forth between his ears. The man broke uncomfortable eye-contact, running a finger along the collar of Bede’s jacket. “You look nice. Is this Spritzee?”   
  
“Aromatisse.” Bede corrected him. Years of training keeps him from swatting the hand so uncomfortably close to his neck. “Ethically sourced.”   
  
Leon laughed, straightening his back. “Usually when people ask ‘who are you wearing’, I have to say a designer, not the Pokémon. This is Wooloo.” He’s so tall- Bede had only seen him from afar, never face to face. From this distance he can tell how much effort he’s put into his personal grooming, something that Bede can respect.   
  
The smile Bede was forcing was starting to strain. Why was he making small talk?   
  
“So, I’ve um, seen you with Chairman Rose.”   
  
Oh, always back to that.   
  
“I was the Champion, you know.” Everyone knows. “And as Champion, I spent a lot of time with the Chairman.” Former Chairman. “So um.” His voice drops, keeping the next words a secret between them. “I know about the things he does.”   
  
It was vague, and would be nonsense to anyone eavesdropping. But to Bede those words were like touching a live wire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replies too quickly, and he can feel his turtleneck squeeze tighter around his throat with every rushing heartbeat.   
  
Leon seemed to be just as frozen as he is, searching Bede’s gaze for what? Weakness? “Bede,” He starts, when a fan cuts in, pulling on the wool tailcoat to pull Leon aside for a selfie. While he’s distracted Bede sneaks away to find that uninspired Spikemuth leader. He was sure to look good next to a simple black dress. Besides, maroon clashed with pink.   
  
And yet, Leon was persistent and dodged through waves of fans to find Bede again, discreetly slipping into his palm a pearlescent keycard with the hotels logo and a number hastily scribbled on the sleeve.   
  
Bede couldn't concentrate on anything else for the rest of the party but the leaden weight of the card in his pocket, growing heavier and heavier as the night wore on.   
  
He used that card to get into the hotel’s elevator, the elevator he was exiting right now, heading to the number listed on the card. Like a Wooloo to the slaughter. But this Wooloo isn’t going down without a fight, because he’s not a kid desperate for validation anymore. He’s a god damn Gym Leader.

The card slips from his hand when he misses the slot a second time. He curses himself on his third try, but once it’s properly inserted he hears the click of the lock and he can’t breathe. Still, he turns the handle, and steps inside.  
  
The room is as ornate as the hallway, and just as sterile. White walls, white sheets, and white art on the walls. They were always white. And there was Leon, sticking out in that stupid maroon jockey outfit against the white, like a stain. His expression softens when he sees Bede. “I’m glad you came.”   
  
Bede doesn’t move from the door listening to it click shut behind him.   
  
“Why don’t you come in,” he lifts one of the two cups he has already poured for the two of them, like a bribe. Like a _date_ .   
  
He keeps his voice steady. “Couldn’t you get one of your loyal fans to come, or maybe the new _champion_ since you like them _young_ ?” Leon’s eyes fall, and it feels so fucking good, nevermind how much tight Bede’s throat is.   
  
“You, you think that because you know what I’ve done for him you can use it against me? You think I’m ashamed?” Leon pales. It’s funny. “What can you do to me? You’re not the champion, you’re not the chairman. I don’t need to do anything for anyone to get what I want anymore, because I’m a Gym Leader! And you- you aren’t anything!” His cheeks are hot and wet, but he can’t look any worse than the champion does right now. That man’s face is crumpling like a used tissue.   
  
Bede laughs, politely hiding scornful snickers behind a wrist. At first its forced, to shame Leon, and then it turns into something else. Something louder, more uncontrollable.   
  
Then it’s muffled and he’s getting mucus all over that hideous wool jacket. Leons touch is so firm against his back, and its familiar, and gentle, and awful, and comforting. There’s a hand stroking his hair, and Bede lets it, sinking to his knees. Leon’s stomach so unfamiliarly toned, but that doesn’t matter, what’s below has to be similar enough, and Bede knows what to do there, which is why he’s so shocked when those gentle hands pick him back up so roughly.   
  
“Stop, stop stop stop, what are you doing?” Leon pushes his hair back with his free hand, crouching down to Bede’s level. “Oh no, no, I didn’t want to be right.” His hands are still so gentle, holding him far away from his warm body, steering Bede to the edge of the bed, but making no move to join him on the stiff overwashed sheets. Bede tries to make sense of how wrong this night is going as Leon stands far on the other side of the room, straightening his clothes and fiddling with his hair nervously.   
  
“What do you mean you 'didn’t want to be right'?” Bede asks, realizing too late that he was wiping his face with the collar of his new coat. He grimaces, wishing he had remembered himself just a bit earlier. “Chairman Rose told you the truth.”   
  
“Chairman Rose didn’t tell me anything. I guessed- I,” He gestures wildly, as if he could grasp what he’s trying to say out of the air. “I made an educated guess.”   
  
What the hell does that mean, he thinks, still unable to find footing in this conversation.   
  
Leon slaps his cheeks, just like he does before a Pokémon match, and he looks straight at Bede, chest heaving with trembling breaths. “I know because I was his, his, uh, favorite, before you were.”   
  
Bede scowls. “I was never his favorite.” Rub it in.   
  
“I mean--” He’s still fumbling, flailing like a particularly agitated Magikarp. “I mean he had-- Fuck,” Bede’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t know Leon could cuss. The next words clumsily tumble out of his mouth, and he stares at the floor as if to watch them drip onto the carpet. “I became champion when I was ten and that’s around when he started having me touch him.”   
  
All in one breath. It looked physically painful to say, and Leon looked so relieved to have said it, as if he’d pulled a dagger free from his gut. That explains the expression.   
  
Still, Bede makes sure his mask of indifference doesn’t slip again. “Why are you telling me this? Starting a club?”

Leon laughs weakly in disbelief, apparently from Bede’s attitude. “I, I thought, since he’s in jail now… Because, when I… I felt so alone, and I still feel like I ought to keep my mouth shut, but you already know, you’re the only person who can know.” Bede isn’t listening anymore. “And I thought, you’d want someone who knew too.”

“What do you mean ‘since he’s in jail now’?” His voice is cold, and it catches both of them off guard.  
  
“He can’t hurt you anymore.”

The fingernails digging into his palm are starting to sting. “Why didn’t you say anything before if you knew? Why did you let that happen?”  
  
Leon looks surprised by the question. “I was scared.”

“I don’t care.” He seems so shocked that Bede isn’t falling apart into his open arms, treating him like some kind of savior. It’d be pathetic if it wasn’t so nauseating. “You’re an adult.”  
  
“You… I thought you’d understand.” The former champion doesn’t look so relaxed anymore. Good. “Blood hell, I thought you out of anyone would understand what I’m going through."   
  
“Why on earth would you think that? We have never spoken before.” Blood is rushing to his face, but he’s not going to cry, not again. “How could I understand? I’m not the adult who looked the other way.”   
  
“I didn’t look the other way. I wanted to say something, but what if then everyone found out what I did for my first sponsorship? What would Hop think?”

Hop?

“Or worse, what if he decided to pursue Hop instead?”

_Hop_ ?   
  
His blood is boiling. “Oh, why didn’t you lead with that? ‘I didn’t step in because you were doing such a great job distracting the Chairman, Bede’. Thank you for your years of service.”   
  
“Stop it.” Leon warns.   
  
“You invite me here, wanting to bond cause we both buggered the Chairman, as if we have something in common, but you don’t know _anything_ about me.”   
  
“I know how happy you looked with him.”   
  
Leon covers his mouth, as if he’s shocked by his own cruelty, but Bede lunges before his brain can even catch up to his legs, and while Leon has a body that’s been carefully sculpted over years of training, Bede has scrappiness learned from an overcrowded orphanage. It was a shame that Opal spent so long carefully manicuring his nails, because he could feel one break against Leon’s throat. “Fuck you!” He hisses, realizing he’s too short to get any real upper-hand on Leon, opting instead to kick his pristine black boots. “He only ever cared about you! At least he looked at you when you were done! You already had everything, I couldn’t even get his approval!”   
  
Leon doesn’t even have the courtesy to push him off. Those golden eyes have a sheen of water clinging to long eyelashes. “I thought we could help each other.” He says quietly, looking at the floor.   
  
“I don’t need help anymore.” Bede’s hands return to his side, numb. “I’m a Gym Leader.” Those two cups he offered earlier are still on the TV stand left of the pair, and Bede picks the more full glass up.   
  
He makes sure the former champion is looking, and spits in the drink.   
  
“Cheers.” Bede sneers, slamming the door to leave Leon rotting in his own self-pity.

-

“Is it true that you were adopted by Macro Cosmos’s Rose?” One of Ballonlea’s new trainer hopefuls asks him between battles, interrupting Hatterene’s grooming session.  
  
Bede tsks, and Hatterene trills suspiciously. “Something like that.” He replies, comb gliding through pastel locks.   
  
She hums, almost like ‘I thought so,’ but she didn’t know what she was talking about. “You know, I didn’t trust him from the start.” And you must feel so smug about that. “He always seemed fake, too polished.” That wasn’t a persona. “You must have seen the Darkest Day incident coming before any of us did.”   
  
He rolls his eyes, and Hatterene hisses, fussy from the sudden sour atmosphere. “I just did what he told me to.”   
  
“Hmm..” She fluffs her Swirlix’s fur. “Being taken advantage by him like that… It sounds awful.”

Hatterene shudders, lips pulling back into a snarl. Bede quickly recalls her before she causes a commotion, keeping his own reaction cool and collected. “You were awful on the pitch. If you want to be an official trainer here try not to use Aromatherapy when the rest of your team is fainted.”

-

Charizard jolts up from Leon’s lap, using his stomach as a springboard to haul over the couch and quite possibly bruise his trainer. “Charizard--” Leon whines, peeking over the back cushions to watch him dash downstairs. Was mail here already, he idly wondered, using this cue to realize it might be best not to spend the whole day lazing about just because he was on holiday.  
  
Once downstairs, he notices there’s still a shadow beyond the frosted glass of his porch- must be a package. Leon quickly unlocks the door, prepared to sign for another gift.

“...Bede?”

He pushes past Leon, beelining to the kitchen. “Would you put a kettle on?” 

Two teacups and a Quagsire-shaped infuser of loose Earl Gray Later, Leon finds himself standing awkwardly like a guest in his own home, while Bede seems quite at home at the table. He’s even found the sugarbowl and placed two cubes in the tea with a melodic ‘plop’. Charizard paces, agitated by the stranger in his home, waiting for Leon’s instruction.

Bede doesn’t look up when he talks, spoon clinking against the porcelain. “I still don’t hate him.”

Leon listens attentively, saying nothing.

“I know he did awful things to me, and I know what he did was wrong and ‘not my fault’, but I still want to defend him every time anyone says anything bad, and everyone just thinks I’m brainwashed. Like I’m daft!” He brings the teacup to his lips, flinching from the still piping hot drink. “He was still kind to me.”

Walking past Charizard, he gives the Pokémon’s snout a reassuring pat only to get a skeptical faceful of hot air in return. He takes a moment to make sure Bede is finished before speaking. “Because of him I was given the endorsement that led to becoming the Champion, but he still he made me feel so helpless sometimes.” It’s slow, taking time to pick his words. “He loved Galar and it’s people genuinely, and I believed in that Rose. It feels like I knew two different people.”  
  
Bede doesn’t reply, staring at his cup and nodding. His jaw looks set.   
  
“I could tell someone now, but then what? He’s already in jail, and then I’m not going to be Former-Champion Leon anymore, I’m going to be that guy who the Chairman of the Pokémon League molested.”

“Yeah.” The boy continues to nod, holding so tight to the teacup that Leon was worried he’d cut himself if it shattered.  
  
On the top shelf above the range he’s sure there’s a tin of biscuits a sponsor had gifted him last week. “Nutmeg or Cinnamon?”   
  
Bede pauses, examining the array of sweets. “Nutmeg.”

The snacks were bitter, and Bede would never forgive Leon’s cowardice. But for just a moment in a private corner in Wyndon, two people were able to find just an ounce of solace over a warm cup of tea.


End file.
